


Rapture

by TooDistasteful



Series: Som.va Week 2017 [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Somva Week 2017, The prompt was only smut why did I go for feels, please ignore my tags omg, smut does happen though so I guess I still filled the prompt, someone shoot me, transgirl sombra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 09:06:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10783749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooDistasteful/pseuds/TooDistasteful
Summary: “You keep staring at me. Why?”"Am I not allowed to look at my date?""I am so not your date."





	Rapture

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so bad. This is literally still Somva week stuff even though that was back in mid-April. I take too long to write, clearly. Some potential trigger warnings for this chapter before you move on: some PTSD Hana (minor), trans Sombra (in case any of my readers have body dysmorphia).
> 
> Prompt: NSFW

It had started so innocently that she scarcely remembered how.

Sombra could recall teasing the other girl, sure. She could even remember jokingly telling her that the only favour she felt would suffice was dinner with _the_ D.Va. She hadn’t expected the child soldier’s spine to stiffen, jaw set, and for her to say yes. She hadn’t expected the night to snowball into a massive grapple for power, either. And she certainly hadn’t expected to leave the restaurant in a frustrated whirlwind. 

The girl had spunk, she would give her that. She didn’t wear her warpaint outside of the battlefield, a discovery she’d made when a shockingly normal Hana Song had met her in Seoul, looking every bit the fresh-faced youngster that she was. It was unnatural, though. Her cheeks were rosy, skin clear as water whenever she dared to sneak a glance. Not a mark on a girl who had been fighting a war.

Korea knew how to keep its little idol pristine, and it drove her insane. She wanted to leave a mark, any mark, just to show that Hana Song wasn’t some untouchable entity. That she was _real_ , that she was flesh and bone and blood just like all of the rest of the poor saps stuck fighting for whatever cause they threw themselves behind. Even the super soldiers of old had come back scarred, or missing pieces of themselves. But not Hana.

Hana was a bastion of perfection, and she would never be able to get over it.

“You keep staring,” the war hero before her murmured, quirking an eyebrow afterwards. Sombra was almost positive she was about to be teased, and had only prepared herself for that much, mentally. All that followed was one word, however, “Why?”

She had no answer, so she hid behind snark, smirking half-heartedly as her fingers played with her napkin, “Am I not allowed to look at my date?”

“I am so not your date.” The huffing that followed told her that the conversation was over, and she couldn’t have been more relieved. When dinner was over, she let Hana pay the bill (hey, who was paying whom the favour here, right), before sitting back in her chair with eyes dancing and arms folded. It was a good meal – better than the snack foods Sombra lived off of when she was ferreted away in her room, hiding safely behind her holoscreens.

She had expected the night to end there, given how little conversation Hana had offered. She seemed grumpy about the whole arrangement, and Sombra couldn’t find it in herself to blame her. She stood up with a bit of a shrug, shoulders rolling. “Good date, _conejita_ , but, just a suggestion, try talking a bit more.” She was making to leave when Hana’s hand, small and surprisingly strong, darted out and caught her wrist, face unreadable.

“Are you seriously just going to leave? Just like that?” She felt her own expression falter, looking around them. For a girl so famous, it was incredible how few people recognised the Daughter of Korea when she wasn’t wearing her warpaint, or parading around as D.Va. They may as well have been invisible.

“Well, that was my plan,” Sombra admitted, noting that she still hadn’t been given her arm back, “I got what I came for.”

“Did you?” The retort is so quick, so biting that she can’t help but furrow her brow.

“Pardon?”

“Did you get what you came for?” She’d heard her the first time, but had learnt ages ago that sometimes asking a person to repeat themselves got you out of having to answer. She thought she understood some part of Hana then, seeing something almost familiar. Rage? Maybe? Sadness?

Nope, she’d lost track of whatever it was that had seemed familiar, frowning a little. “You should at least go for a walk with me,” Hana pointed out, and she felt her eyes widen as she swallowed, “You asked for a date, not a meal. I’m going to deliver.”

So maybe that was how the first part of all of it had started. She hadn’t planned on making this a repeat occurrence, or anything. But now they were almost friends, and Hana’s demeanour had gone from being kind of icy to something a bit more playful. Sombra had to wonder if that was more her, or the mask she wore for everyone. She never asked.

“Okay, scale of one to ten,” Hana started during one of their after-dinner walks, “How creepy is it if you’re considering dating a fan?”

“Depends. How creepy is the fan?” Sombra rattles off like clockwork, watching Hana’s face contort before she gives a hand waggle.

“Like, six?”

“It would definitely be a poor life choice,” she decides, chuckling as Hana laughs.

“You just want me to spend money on you instead, I swear.”

Placing a hand to her chest in mock offence, Sombra does her best incredulous impression. “ _Conejita_ , I’m shocked. I also want you around for the riveting conversation about video games I’ve never played and almost certainly never will, clearly.” Hana rolls her eyes at that one, moving to punch her shoulder lightly in a move that Sombra has come to know as some form of endearment to the little gamer girl. “You punch like a girl.”

“Only when there are witnesses,” Hana hums, and the pair of them fall into a comfortable silence. Korea, in spite of everything, is beautiful this time of year. Seoul isn’t as demolished as her date’s home, a subject that rarely comes up. She can see it in Hana’s face, however, whenever they stumble across a holoscreen playing the news, or the rubble of a building that once was. For all that she would like to think that she understands Hana Song, she has the feeling that she’s barely even scratched the surface.

Their dinners and walks continue between their busy schedules when they can, though they don’t seem to be anything deeper. They don’t see each other on the battlefield, thankfully, because Sombra isn’t certain she would be able to fight against the first true connection she’s made in years. That’s dangerous, and she knows as much, but she can’t convince herself to leave, anyway.

It leads up until such a time that Hana comes to dinner one night looking upset, slamming her bag down before Sombra has a chance to get a word out edgewise. “I have to go home.” The meaning behind it isn’t lost on her, as the air hangs heavy between them. “I don’t even have a home in Busan anymore, so they’re putting me up in some house they use for staging. I’m going to be trapped for for a month, at least.”

It sounded like hell, and she felt for her, really. “That sucks, _chica_. Suppose this is our last meal together for a little while then.” She probably should have been doing her job, anyway. Talon paid her per case handled, and she wasn’t exactly pulling in a lot of dough lately.

Hana’s eyes sought hers out across the table, expression unreadable. The only thing that Sombra knew for sure was that she had to dread whatever was coming next. “Come with me. Please.”

She wanted to say no. How she ended up in Busan anyway, she would never really be able to guess. Hana’s accommodations were… fine, in a way. The city itself was so destroyed that even Sombra had been taken aback, and she had lived through a lot of war zones. “It’s incredible that people around the globe are ignoring this,” she had commented, and Hana had only continued to stare out of the window, eyes glazed over and far off.

Most of the trip was like that. Something stiff, artificial to Hana whenever she was out in public, and then nothing but a cardboard girl at the hotel. Sombra was certain that she’d never seen someone so fragile. She missed their usual discourse, the teasing and the weird tension. She’d have even taken being punched or shot at over whatever all of this was.

Suffice it to say, she was hardly surprised when Hana cried on their last day there. She didn’t question it, holding the other woman awkwardly in the bed they were apparently sharing now, patting her head and mumbling in Spanish, if only because Hana’s lack of comprehension seemed to calm her slightly, make the girl sniffle as she listened to it.

A month later, and they were back to pretending Busan hadn’t happened. The closest she came to it was a small mention that Hana loved the sound of her mother tongue, found it calming.

It was another four months before she was asked back, and Sombra knew better than to pretend she couldn’t make it. She cleared her schedule – what else could she do? She was committed now, even if she didn’t want to be.

It was the drinking and the crying that she hadn’t expected, or the flurry of lips and hands against her. She stayed in Busan, but kept her distance after that one. Hana didn’t let on that anything had changed, to her credit, and Sombra began to wonder if she had dreamt it all. Weeks passed with the usual communication between them, bits and pieces and what they could sneak without being found out. 

Their next trip to Seoul together was the same, uneventful teasing she had grown accustomed to.  
  
“Okay, okay, so you’re telling me you _don’t_ use wall hacks even though you’re capable of it?” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I _never_ use them – “  
  
“Perv.”

It was a comfortable silence that followed, and Sombra just had to go and ruin it by asking, “So. Not that I mind, but why have I been coming to Busan with you lately?”

Hana faltered, seemingly torn between telling her the truth, and telling her nothing at all. She settles for some look that Sombra can’t interpret, leaning across their table at the restaurant and pressing their lips, mouths together, briefly, before pulling back just enough so that her bottom lip still brush against Sombra’s when she spoke. “I wanted someone there that I cared about, again. It’s been a while since I had that.”

Sombra can’t question her further, so she doesn’t.

Their next meeting was at a hotel, of all places. She showed up, because why wouldn’t she, only to discover the most scantily clad Hana that anybody has ever seen outside of a medbay, most likely. Sombra swallowed hard, thoughts and eyes racing before the devil in question had leaned into her muttering a quick, “Don’t think about it so much.”

So, that was how the sex began. The falling in love with the girl behind one of the biggest international icons on the planet, that part was messy and didn’t seem to have a beginning or an end. Sometimes, she liked to pretend that Hana loved her, too.

Their hotel meetings were few and far between, as their dinners had been, but increasingly electric. It got to the point where she would get hard just thinking about it, touched herself at night when they had been apart for too long to the idea of Hana’s head bobbing between her thighs, the taste of her on the younger woman’s lips.

The accident happened when she opted out of a mission, and Hana didn’t. She tried to avoid things involving Overwatch, because _why wouldn’t she_? It made the news, though, that D.Va had been shot. There were no meetings for seven months, not a bit of contact. She thanked every deity that Hana was so beloved by the media that her progress was public.

When she finally had a chance to see her again, she slapped her. “What were you thinking?”

“Is that any way to say hi to a war hero?”

“Please. You were already a war hero.”

“Ah, true.” Hana stripped out of her shirt with a smirk, hands going to her own fly before eyeing up Sombra’s. “Seven months and you aren’t pantsless yet?”

She decided that she didn’t need to be asked twice, losing articles of clothing in a frenzy across the room Hana had gotten for the pair of them, unhooking her own bra and all but throwing it as the pair of them met in a messy flurry of lips and hands and heat and need. She promised herself _never again_ as Hana’s fevered flesh came into contact with her own, a hand dipping between her legs to work on her hardening member. The urgency was palpable there, and though they had the place for the night, she all but threw Hana onto her back on the bed, following up with a searing kiss and her body on top. Her hand flew between her occasional lover’s legs, practiced fingers dancing around her clit as the smaller woman squirmed, frowning. “Would you just fuck me already?”

“Spread your legs,” she commanded, though it came out as a half-mumbled sort of suggestion. Hana did as asked with so much enthusiasm it made her smile so hard it hurt, and their mouths connected again, teeth clacking like they were teenagers who had never done this before. Sombra didn’t so much as wince, her hand flying to her rock hard cock, feeling it throb almost painfully with want even against her own flesh. She guided it along Hana’s slit once, twice, wetting it with the other girl’s juices. She sank into her partner with a moan, hips bucking hard into the gamer.

Hana sighed as they found a rhythm, locking her legs behind Sombra in a way that brought them closer. She hadn’t thought – wouldn’t have ever have guessed that Hana would want her this deep, this hard, this soon. Their other times together had been far less desperate, gentle rocking or oral. But they were all but rutting now, a flurry of sweat on skin, swollen lips and fingernails that left crescent imprints on one another.

She almost came when Hana flipped them, so effortless for someone so small, placing both hands on her stomach as she leaned forwards. They locked eyes, and Sombra felt her heart nearly escape her chest, as some sort of unspoken conversation passed between them. She wasn’t certain what her own eyes said, but she could see the want, the _need_ in Hana’s. Her hips rolled upwards in time to catch the pair grinding down, and they found a new pace with one another.

Hana was so tight around her she wanted to scream, opting to moan as loudly as she wanted instead, not even caring if there was someone who might have heard in the next room over, who had noticed Hana in the lobby and followed them up. Every now and again, there was a sound that came from her partner as well, as they worked towards a common goal.

She was almost shocked when Hana came first, losing momentum for a moment as the gamer, this world renowned superstar, turned to liquid above her, moaning and clawing at her. Sombra isn’t sure how anyone would have been able to hold on after that, trying to offer some warning so that Hana could stop grinding down on her so ferociously, give her time to pull out –

There isn’t any, as she emptied herself with a moan. Her hips bucked into Hana in an uneven flurry, breath coming ragged and as laboured as if she had run a marathon. The woman above her didn’t move, didn’t give any indication that she was aware of time or space or the cum inside of her slowly dripping down Sombra’s softening member. It’s like none of that exists, at least, not immediately, and Hana collapsed with a little sigh across her chest, peppering kisses to the hacker’s breasts.

_“Saranghae.”_

She didn’t know what it meant, but if they’re going to be expressing things in other languages, Sombra decides there’s little harm in opting for Spanish as she rolls Hana beside her, carefully staying buried inside of her, for the time being. _“Te amo.”_

It’ll probably be months before she can see her again. It could be for anything, too, a trip to Busan where she’ll lose the fierce, practiced façade of an idol in exchange for a girl with too many monsters in her head, or another romp like this. It wouldn’t matter. She’d be there.


End file.
